


yours & mine

by imyourwolf



Category: Dreamcatcher (Korea Band)
Genre: F/F, Fluffy Angst, Friends With Benefits, Sexual Content, fwb to lovers, it's explicit... but make it soft
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-22
Updated: 2020-09-22
Packaged: 2021-03-07 15:51:03
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 10,127
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26600179
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/imyourwolf/pseuds/imyourwolf
Summary: “How about I rent out a place for us?”
Relationships: Kim Bora | SuA/Kim Minji | JiU
Comments: 17
Kudos: 228
Collections: DreamCatcher Taylor Swift Ficfest 2k20





	yours & mine

**Author's Note:**

> for the Taylor Swift Ficfest 2k20, inspired by "cornelia street". first shot at the fwb theme and jibo's dynamic and also anything nearly explicit as this, so i wholeheartedly hope you enjoy reading it. thank you again, [laura](https://twitter.com/radicalmomocist) for organizing this, you're incredible as always.

“How about I rent out a place for us?”

Bora said, letting the alcohol talk.

They were in the backseat of the van, stuck in a Friday night’s traffic jam. Bora had been resting her head on Minji’s shoulder, her hand mindlessly wandered beneath the hem of Minji’s untucked button-up while the latter played with the wrinkles of Bora’s dress. 

“Where?” Minji asked.

“There?” Bora suggested, pointing at an apartment complex that had been in their view for the last ten minutes while they waited for the road accident ahead to disperse.

Minji followed Bora’s line of vision, then sunk back into their comfort.

The AC couldn’t blow off the air that smelled of flowery fragrance and expensive liquor, but Bora found Minji’s natural scent every time she nudged her nose onto the crook of the woman’s neck to be more overwhelming even when she was barely sober. The sheer black curtain held loosely from window to window behind the upper seats offered some privacy, and the music on the radio was loud enough to entertain their driver and muted their conversation into incoherent whispers. 

Not like Minji’s manager, Siyeon, paid any mind. The woman was having her own solo karaoke with whatever songs that would come up as she drove them both back to Minji’s place, easily accepting the reason that both actresses would be sharing a schedule the next day and it would be convenient to pick them up from one location. Sharing the load with Yubin, Bora’s manager, was her way of thanking her new drinking partner for lending an ear to her rants about their jobs. Siyeon was too naive to know what had been happening, or had been playing pretend because she felt no need to get involved. Either way, it worked for the actresses.

Their rendezvous meetings had lasted for weeks now, and as exhilarating as it felt, the risks, inconvenience, and, not to mention, the excruciating back pains from playing in dark places and cramped spaces had taken a toll on them both. The paparazzi crept around their residences, eating up any crumbs for the scandals, and the actresses still had a shed of shame left to not be climbing into windows. In a parked car of empty parking lots could only work so long, and Bora blamed Minji’s height and long limbs for why their sessions ended up in fits of laughter and bruises not from kisses. And the hotels, even with shuffling up a new one each night and jumping from one city to the next, had been the longest and most unsafe solution. (Though, Bora did quite like their soap.) It was when the bills reflected on Yubin’s credit card statements and the number of tabloids that had spotted the celebrity at the valet started surfacing that Bora faced an unusual intervention from her manager to gently remind her of her bigger goals and ambitions.

Yet, in their own way, Minji and Bora were greedy to keep what they were having - whatever this actually was. It was too good to let go – the feeling they hadn’t felt with anyone else.

“It’ll be a secret hide-out,” Bora added, feeling like a rebellious teenager as she spoke.

“Yours and mine?”

“Who else?”

“You tell me.”

Minji shrugged, bumping Bora’s head off her shoulder. Bora rolled her eyes at the older woman, then nudged back to her place of comfort.

“Just yours and mine.”

Minji leaned her head against Bora’s then pulled her closer by the waist.

The dragged out drive gave too much time for thoughts, and the silence bid too much ideas that should have never been spoken otherwise. 

And the suspenseful pause felt long enough that Bora was tempted to wave it off, but what Bora said was never intended as a joke, and Minji didn’t take it as such.

“I’d like that,” Minji said as the traffic cleared and they were on the road again.

Bora could almost feel it, the way Minji’s lips would curve up in a smile so full of curiosities and open doors.

–

It wasn’t the first time they were entangled the way they were now, in the back seat of the van and behind curtain-covered, heavy tinted windows, kisses painting raw hunger and fingers dancing on skin to the blaring music from the distance blurring out echoes of their moans as bodies would come undone.

It was supposed to be once.

(How cliché.)

Bora had almost forgotten about it – _almost_. But with their bodies writhing in desperation to feel _more_ , sweat sticking to their skin from the closed-in heat, it was just as it had been the first time last summer. Like black magic that Bora so willingly gave in. 

Bora wasn’t usually like this. She’s proper, classy with more than enough self-control… Kim Bora, an A-list actress, with a reputation to secure and a part to play. But something about the look Minji had been giving her the whole night from across the plain, how her fingers subtly stroked Bora’s in between formal greetings when they were re-introduced by colleagues who would have never known better, and the way she held her perfect, angelic face to the public’s eye and yet could instantly recall all things but innocence from their last encounter when she turned to Bora with a simple whisper – _“Missed me?”_

Really, what were the chances? To be casted as the second lead in the same drama as the country’s favorite sweetheart, Kim Minji– ah, no, that wasn’t it.

What were the _chances_? To meet, again, the woman from a year ago at their mutual friend’s afterparty, the same woman Bora would later spent the night with until dawn – on leather seats, against walls, and between sheets – in sharing of bruises and kisses and– 

_“Maybe I’d even fall for you if we meet again,”_ was the last thing Minji told her as she dropped off Bora at the latter’s house to spare the woman from the walk of shame the following morning. _“Is that a threat?”_ Bora would coyly reply before walking off without any hesitation nor expectations. Every now and then, Bora would remember the joke, and the words pulled back all the ecstasy that came before.

It started out with a suggestion, a mutual exchange of prolonged stares from across the room, then spoken only through a brief moment of pause and a gaze shifting to the lips. Their first kiss was hasty, rushed, acting purely on lust for what came after. They had blamed it on the alcohol, but neither regarded it as a regret.

(It’s like Bora could still feel it, how soft it was when Minji brushed away strands of her hair and whispered, “Good morning.”)

And now, when Minji faced her again, with her pure façade that masked so much mischievous dominance underneath, it felt like a spell had been casted on her and suddenly, oh so suddenly, she wanted to make the same conscious mistake.

Bora held her friendly smile. She had thought, for days too long, about rejecting the offer when she was informed of the cast, specifically about Kim Minji. But the screenplay had potential and it would undoubtedly give a boost to her career. Strangely, the director had even insisted that no one else would be as perfect, and despite the excuses – so-called “reasons” – that she could easily see through despite her own ego, Bora finally accepted. She would be dumb not to.

Hours passed, and it drove an insanity of impatience that had Bora crossing her knees and chugging ice cubes for the entirety of this dragged out party. 

And when they both had their fair share of small talks, politics, and social presence, they staged a small accident to excuse themselves behind the scene. Typical, but the artistry of their career had carried them along well to easily dismiss the incident as genuine.

Surely, Minji was flawless in her act, as if she had been reciting in her head for the whole night.

“Why does it have to be me?” 

Bora started whining to save her the embarrassment of facing the other woman like this again. Minji, on the hand, was calm, showing no signs of haste nor worry despite their predicament. She always seemed to have everything under control. Of course, it was her who came up with the excuse of “spare clothes” in the car to remove them off the scene altogether.

“I’m wearing white,” Minji answered simply, a small grin on her face as she comfortably propped Bora on the back seat and unzipped her dress that they had “mutually agreed” to sacrifice with the spillings of plum wine.

“And you think red can’t stain–”

Minji moved closer, her lips faintly brushing Bora’s, eyes sharp enough to induce an intimidated silence from the latter. 

“Shall I make it up to you?”

It was at the expense of Bora’s new dress, but she could care less right now with Minji bidding an “apology” between her thighs.

It was different this time. Bora could only smell mint and taste of iced tea and herself when Minji kissed her. Absolutely drunk on pure lust, but completely sober otherwise.

The music quieted for a moment and Bora bit on a bundle of her blouse to keep her moans muted. It was then that Minji also paused, her lips and chin glossed, and she peeked up to look at Bora, knowing so damn well that the woman was close. Helpless and hungry, her hips buckling in pleads almost, Bora whimpered Minji’s name, and it was Minji’s sunbright smile in response that was deemed most inappropriate in this situation.

“Why don’t you say it?” Minji said, removing the clothing piece from Bora’s mouth, “how badly you want me.”

“You’re so full of yourself,” Bora scoffed, gritting her teeth, as if her body wasn’t practically begging for it.

“I can stop–”

“Fuck– Yes... _yes_ , I want you.”

Minji clicked her tongue, shaking her head.

“You know better, Miss Kim Bora.”

Throwing away her pride through gritted teeth, Bora clutched at the other woman’s sleeve as she muttered a breathless, “... _Please_.”

“Good girl.”

Satisfied, Minji resumed, and Bora’s moans were once again muted by the music that started up.

“You taste just as good as I remembered,” Minji would say, and that was enough to undo Bora again, and again.

–

It grew to be a sort of pride, how Bora knew Minji in a way that others couldn’t.

_“Doesn’t Miss Minji seem so innocent?”_

The exchanges became such common talk on set, beliefs blinded behind intensified heart eyes and smitten affection painting a portrait of the purest saint. Cast and crew spoke alike, the men especially – oh, the most naive vultures of them all. And it made Bora laugh, sometimes too loud and drawing too much attention, yet they would continue on, thinking that she was finding anything else but their talk to be the subject of her humor.

It was just how they disregarded the alluring, siren-whispered of a gaze as a mere act.

All of those were Minji, of course – soft, warm, kind, sweet, and gentle – but Minji was not just all of those.

Yet, not that Minji was a fake neither – absolutely not – she was anything but. It was, however, one side of a coin that naturally became a reputation. Was it controlled? Possibly. Duality was Minji’s power play, and she played it flawlessly well. And not that Minji pulled too much effort to hide the other side of her; most just refuse to see otherwise, willingly stuck within their own figment of imagination that they had placed their faith (and bets) on to be the truth. 

The irony made Bora’s mind subconsciously replayed the nights when Minji would roughly push her against the wall in the hallway of the new apartment, shoes still on and clothes half undone, while whispering the most risque demands as her lips would mercilessly mark messy bruises on Bora’s skin. It was almost torturing in the most pleasurable way, how Minji liked to keep Bora on edge even at her utmost impatience, simply because she indulged in the desperate begging that would ensue from the other woman when she’d soon hit her limit. Needless to say, they didn’t make it to the bed on the first round; Minji wouldn’t allow it.

The memory would make Bora blush, sometimes too much for the poor makeup artist’s confusion.

Despite the commotion outside as the cast and crew wrapped up the night’s shoot, Bora had the space of the dressing room to herself. She was almost stuck in a daze standing in front of the lighted vanity mirror, leaving her shirt unbuttoned half-way as she stared at the reflection of the dark spot by her chest that refused to fade any time soon. 

They were usually careful about leaving behind marks, Minji especially. But there must have been something about the low-cut V-neck blouse Bora wore on set the day before that had Minji stealing less subtle glances for the entirety of the shoot and later impressing deep kisses like she had forgotten their unspoken rule. Of course, Bora went for a full button-up today.

A few knocks then sounded by the door, in a specific rhythmic pattern she could easily recognize.

“Come in,” Bora said, only checking for her audience from the glass’ reflection as her hand bridged the gap between her shirt, just in case. 

Minji entered shortly, followed by an oh-so-familiar clicking sound of a locked door. She wasted no time in her approach, wrapping her arms around the other woman’s body from behind as she casually slipped a hand underneath the satin shirt, feeling the skin there warming up almost instantly at her contact. Gently resting her chin on the Bora’s shoulder and feeling the latter’s head nudging gently against hers, Minji glanced at their figures in the mirror.

“Couldn’t wait for a few more hours?” she asked, removing Bora’s hand gripping to hold her unbuttoned shirt closed. Minji raised a brow at the sight, at how visible the bruise still looked.

“And they call you innocent,” Bora scoffed, catching the proud smirk on the woman’s lips.

“So…” Minji hummed against Bora’s ear, “did you call me here to prove them wrong?” 

“Would you?”

It wasn’t Bora’s intention, really. They had a bed now, an entire space to themselves. Undisturbed _privacy_. But yes, she couldn’t wait for a few more hours, not with the way Minji was now purposely breathing against her neck and toying tempting touches on her thighs. 

Already working through the rest of the buttons on Bora’s shirt, Minji’s fingers popped them loose in quick, seamless motions. And when Bora attempted to turn around, her body was pressed against the vanity counter as a hand crept around her neck, choking lightly, before reaching her chin to lift her view back to their reflection. It was a subtle but clear enough of a suggestion, being grounded in place, that Minji would be making good use of this mirror to feed her “innocent” curiosity.

“If only you can keep your voice down,” she whispered.

This, too, was Kim Minji. The woman who smiled like an angel, and touched like sin.

–

“I’m hungry.”

Minji said when the silence fell away from their breathless pants and into softer breathings. Her stomach growled in harmony, and Bora languidly soothed the bare belly with her hand. 

“You just had an entire five course meal,” Bora said, nuzzling a smile on the crook of Minji’s neck as she cuddled closer to the older woman. The comment earned her a gentle slap on the arm, but suggestively spoken or not, she wasn’t wrong.

Bora couldn’t open her eyes, fatigue slowly hitting her like the cold chilly air seeping through the small slit of their apartment replacing the fiery heat from moments earlier. She couldn’t remember the last time she had hit that many highs in one night, and Minji had become more and more akin to pushing their limits. When in the mood, Minji was relentless, and tonight was one of those nights.

Minji, however, seemed completely fine, wide awake, and Bora wondered where she could have gotten her energy from. And just when Bora almost drifted off to sleep, she felt Minji’s stomach grumbling again against her palm.

“There’s instant noodles,” Bora whispered.

It was quiet for a few seconds too long, and Bora thought that maybe Minji must have changed her mind–

“Will you join me?”

Or not.

Bora opened her eyes finally, and Minji was giving her that look – the kind of look that could easily get Kim Minji whatever she wanted, in any situation, for any reason, with anyone – and Bora rolled her eyes at that, despite thinking, yes, Minji was so damn cute. But it wasn’t enough to convince her.

“And what do I get out of this?”

The question was like a switch, and there was a smug smile on Minji’s lips now, her mischievous side creeping in to play as she snaked her hand around Bora’s waist to pull her even closer. With Minji’s tempting teasing nature at its best, she deliberately guided Bora’s hand from her stomach, skin to skin contact never breaking, down to her inner thigh, just close enough to sense the warmth but not enough to feel the heat. For Bora, this was the last push to get her to do exactly what Minji wanted.

“Dessert,” Minji whispered, nibbling at Bora’s ear for a little added persuasion.

And it worked. 

“...Go boil the water.”

Having been on the receiving end for the whole night, the offer was definitely something worth considering.

Excited at her win, Minji softly kissed Bora’s cheek, and happily got up from the bed. Bora’s eyes followed the woman as she was about to shamelessly strut to the kitchen in her bare nakedness.

“Put some clothes on. You’ll catch a cold,” Bora nagged gently, despite very much enjoying the view.

Then Minji obliged, searching the floor and picking up an oversized cotton tee that they had hastily discarded.

“That’s mine–” Bora said, pausing as she watched Minji casually wear _her_ T-shirt on. The hem that would normally reach to her knees barely covered Minji’s thighs.

But damn, did it fit Minji too well.

“Is there a problem?” Minji asked, and Bora caught herself before her gaping mouth fell further.

Swallowing the lump caught in her throat, Bora shook her head, and Minji sent her a wink that simply said, _“That’s what I thought.”_

They ate their meals on the floor with a tiny coffee table Bora had brought from her own home (for the lack of a better stepping stool to reach higher places). The ceiling light was too bright for them both at three o’clock in the morning, and the only alternative was a single, small mood lamp Minji had brought for her own princess sleep. 

Minji was telling her random little stories now, something about her younger brother and something about a pretty flower she saw on the lawn, and Bora just quietly nodded along, adding a few commentaries here and there to show she was still listening. The aftermath of their hours-long sessions was getting the best of her, but she wouldn’t trade the smiles on Minji’s cute face for an extra hour of sleep.

And there was a moment when Bora paused, almost in a daze, and she couldn’t tell if it was the fatigue or just… Minji – bare-face Minji with her chipmunk cheeks stuffed with noodles, clad comfortably in her T-shirt, with smiles reaching her eyes into beautiful crescents as the dim light reflected hues of gold on her skin. Something about it made Bora want to reach out and give the woman a quick kiss–

“Is there something on my face?” Minji asked, staring back at a gaping Bora in genuine curiosity. 

She was so used to the look in Minji’s eyes before the woman would send her into waves of ecstasy that now the pair looking back at her almost seemed foreign. They were not the ones that spoke of polite pleasantries or casual sweetness that she would offer on the daily. Bora couldn’t pin-point what exactly it was, but she knew, all in all, this was still Minji.

It felt, almost strangely, inappropriate to do what her mind was screaming for her to do now. So Bora didn’t. Instead, she dabbed a napkin to the corner of Minji’s mouth and looked away.

Minji went on with her stories, and Bora took a moment to observe the flat. Bora had never given it much thought to decorate the place, other than for the bed that they had surely been making good use of for every stay, but having a moment of calmness now had given her perspective to how plain and empty the whole apartment actually appeared. It wasn’t warm as it should be, and Bora couldn’t tell if it was the lack of things going on or the fact that it currently looked worse than one of those extreme minimalist Instagram posts paired with the motions of the constant dripping rain from the ceiling in that one particular spot in the room. She considered, supposedly with a passing thought that somehow got stuck too long on the edge of her mind, that maybe they should pretty this place up to make it feel more like–… 

No, she shook the implications off her mind. It could never be that, this was not supposed to be something like _that_. 

“Let’s buy some furniture,” Minji suggested then when she bumped her knees against the table for the third time, unknowingly speaking the thoughts in Bora’s mind aloud.

And suddenly, like it had been tipped off from hanging hesitantly on the edge, the idea made sense. Suddenly, it just sounded _good_. Bora didn’t know what it could mean at the time, and she couldn’t care less. Her earlier thought still held its impression, albeit suppressed. Yet what Minji said made her smile, somehow. So she agreed, and the glow in Minji’s eyes just made it all the more exciting.

“Yeah, let’s.”

A few days later, Minji – sparked with vibrant ideas – insisted that they picked out the pieces together, and so they did. And Minji made all the purchases (using her manager’s information with cautious measures) reasoning that Bora had already paid for all the other expenses. It seemed silly to even be discussing this, and sometimes the logic in Bora asked, _“How did this happen?”_ and she pushed and pushed it away. And she could hear it still, the thought ringing in the back of her mind ever so loudly, growing in tantrums as their space began to fill with more and more warmth as the week went on. 

But when she was wrapped in Minji’s arms past midnight, when they were entangled in fresh sheets and comforters, when the white noise of their refrigerator muted the cars driving past on levels below, when the light from the television they had forgetfully left on still shine dimly in the room, when all she could hear was the steady beating of Minji’s heartbeat as she settled on the latter’s chest, the thought came back and Bora let it be:

It felt like _home_.

–

Minji was an open book.

The kind with lines that you would read once, then pause, to only reread the same line again, seemingly lost in its meaning now, distracted by something among the words that looked so simple yet echoed ripples in your mind – like the shimmer in her eyes when she looked at you, or the blissful echo of her laugh at your lamest joke, or the gentleness of her “good night” that lulled you to the sweetest sleep – and you find yourself rereading the same line over and over and over–

Minji was an open book, but it didn’t make it any easier for Bora to understand. It felt like she could never reach the epilogue, and could never understand it fully even if she did.

Then there were her eyes – they would say so much, and tell so little.

–

“They say we look like good friends.”

Bora said, scrolling through a recent article popping up on her feed after receiving an interesting text from Yubin, _“Congratulations, you made it on Dispatch.”_ From her peripheral vision, she could see Minji smirked at the irony.

It was their day off, a perfectly good afternoon to catch up with feedback on their performance and social media postings while situated comfortably on their new loveseat in the middle of the flat space. The photos on the article were from their short trip to the convenience store, taken just yesterday night when they went for a spontaneous drive near Minji’s apartment after the shooting. Bora vividly remembered having Minji’s jacket around her shoulders as the older woman clung onto her arm for the entire walk, but not the moment when she had habitually grabbed Minji’s behind in a tight squeeze, now captured in high definition and perfect zoom.

Minji sighed, shaking her head, when she saw the photos airdropped on her phone, questionably cropped by yours truly, miss mischievous Kim Bora.

“I say it’s a perfect shot, wouldn’t you agree?” Bora teased, knowing Minji specifically asked her to refrain from acting as such in public, while also knowing that it wouldn’t even make a dent in Minji’s “perfectly good girl” reputation.

A few minutes after, Minji fell into silence, and Bora observed the way her eyes suddenly flared with such focused intensity that it could easily burn holes on the screen.

“Our fans seem to like it,” Bora commented, continuing to browse through other social sites now from her private, personal account. 

She reviewed the wild compliments in response to her new magazine shoot, bypassed the fanwars that somehow sparked from supporters wanting Minji together with the male lead, and read instead the number of posts from their shippers theorizing their relationship to the smallest details. Some were far-fetched, yet most were insanely accurate, like how they just seem to know for sure that it had to be Minji’s leather jacket on Bora.

For a moment, Bora had thought they looked good together.

“Oh, yeah?” Minji, on the other hand, had set her phone aside and slowly maneuvered herself closer to the latter. 

Only half-listening, Minji quietly settled on Bora’s lap, facing the other woman who was still glued to her phone. And when Minji’s bare skin pressed against her exposed thighs, Bora subtly bit her lips at the realization that the other woman was wearing no more than an oversized shirt – _hers_ , again – and an undergarment that was peeking out as the clothing piece rolled up. 

_Red_ , Bora observed, _that’s new_. 

Minji’s hands began to gently untug Bora’s blouse from the waistline of her pants so she could slide them beneath the fabric, drawing taunting circles on Bora’s abdominal muscle that tightened at her touch. Yet, Bora offered her no more than a flinch. 

Bora didn’t miss the way Minji started moving against her thigh now, subtle and slow at first, building up as minutes passed when she remained unresponsive and not paying the other woman any attention. It was never hard to know when Minji was in the mood; while Bora was more vocal about her needs, Minji chose to show it physically. But for all those nights Minji didn’t let her finish when she was begging for it through breathless moans and nails digging into skin, Bora figured Minji could wait a little as she finished up her own little entertainment. 

But when Minji’s hand crept higher with soft pinches, kneading on her chest, Bora subconsciously closed her eyes and flinched again, her own heat becoming just as apparent as Minji’s rubbing on her own thigh.

She didn’t let up. Not, yet.

“JiBo.”

“...Mhm?” Minji managed to mutter, not being able to hide the arousal in her voice. Bora smirked at this, quite amused to see the older woman on the other side of the insufferable torture for once.

“That’s our ship name apparently.”

“JiBo… Why JiBo?” Minji asked, withdrawing suddenly as she thought for a moment about the way it rolled off her tongue and sounded in her ears. Bora shrugged, suddenly finding Minji’s confused expression together with her slightly disheveled look a bit too amusing. “Why not MinBo? Why is it the last part of my name and the first part of yours?”

“Does it matter?”

By now, Bora knew this was leading to Minji’s typical hardheadedness getting them into an unnecessarily long discussion just so she could go from her point A to Z when Bora would rather just continue what Minji started. She was getting too heated to let Minji just stop now just because of some dumb ship names debate (that would probably come up again on a random fine day). 

“Yes? Why not M–”

At the cheeky talk-back, Bora tugged at the collar of Minji’s shirt, pulling the latter down to sear sudden open-mouthed kisses on her lips as a reminder of the situation they were in. She snaked a hand in Minji’s red lingerie, sliding down the lacey piece to firmly grab her bottom and motioning the woman to continue riding on her thigh.

“So, does it still matter?” Bora asked again, pressing a coy smile against Minji’s ear before biting on the shell. Hearing Minji squirm at the contact and feeling the latter topple to find her balance as her hands gripped at the backrest of the loveseat, she knew Minji wouldn’t disagree.

“Yes–... but it can – _fuck_ – it can wait.”

_Stubborn ass._

Bora thought, squeezing her grip again as she earned another moan escaping from Minji.

“Now who’s the good girl?” 

A suppressed shiver jolted from Minji’s body at her words, a reaction, nonetheless. Placing a finger on her chin, Bora lifted up Minji’s face so she could see the expressions the other woman had been trying so hard to bury in the crook of her neck. It sent another wave of heat from her spine down to her core, to witness such a desperate look she hadn’t seen from Minji before.

“Damn it Bora, just do your usual–” Minji’s voice dropped to a whisper, breaking now at every provoking move Bora was making to remove her undergarment ever so slowly.

“But this one’s pretty–”

“I have spares–”

And at that, Bora mercilessly tore the fabric, tossing the clothing piece carelessly on the wood floor.

“–that you will buy for me.”

“Hey, that’s not fair!” Bora exclaimed, quickly shushed by a finger on her lips.

“Now who’s my good girl?” 

There was that voice again, the one she would use in her sweet praises, the kind that would make such a mess of Bora, _Minji’s_ usual.

“You’re quite needy today,” Bora said, holding back a moan when she could _feel_ just how desperate Minji was when the woman situated back down on her thigh with nothing in between them this time.

“Y-Your fault.”

“And why is that?”

“Your new photoshoot.”

“Didn’t know you have a thing for women in suits.”

“No,” Minji pushed herself up to face Bora now, pausing for a moment. The look in her eyes shifted again – _softer_ – like the Minji Bora would wake up to every morning, and suddenly Bora couldn’t read her. “Just you.”

There was a pang in her chest that called for more attention than the warmth between her legs, and it felt… strange.

 _What was that_ –

Not leaving a moment for rest, Minji undressed herself, impatience riding on edge as she forced Bora’s focus on the task at hand with the repeated sounds of Bora’s name from her lips and the mess she left on the woman’s skin.

Mentally shaking off the intrusive thoughts, Bora increased the friction between them by nudging Minji closer by the hands squeezing her bottom.

“You don’t like it done in public, but you sure enjoy this when it’s just the two of us, huh?”

“What do you think?”

“I think we’re about to become very good friends right now.”

–

Friday nights somehow became their stay-in. 

There were two months left until the last filming, and with the autumn rain becoming more unpredictable, the shootings were lined up back to back to cover as much as possible. Their schedules weren’t aligned as when they first started, their characters now having separate scenes to further their own plot. But with the apartment so much closer to the shooting site than their own homes, Bora and Minji would find their way back here almost every night, spending even more time together than before.

(There was no reason to be here on the weekends though, but they won’t talk about it, not even when Siyeon dropped Minji at the apartment on a day-off or when Yubin had to pick Bora up at the flat instead of her own home.)

Spare clothes hanging on the wall became a line of folded outfits sectioned by days of the week on a fur bench that Minji got for no other reason other than, “It’s fluffy.” The leftovers from their to-go dinner had been stacked in tupperwares in the fridge, and the day’s trash had been tossed to the big can outside. Lying comfortably on the corner of the sofa was a Rilakkuma plush in a bunny hat, a random gift from Bora to Minji on a random night they both decided to go to an amusement park one hour before closing just to ride on the Ferris wheel. The water from the ceiling was still dripping in the corner, now muted by a towel draped in a bucket – a trick Minji learned in one of her many favorite films. 

Tonight, however, they were to watch Minji’s favorite movie. Something about the main character having the ability to travel back in time, but Bora had agreed quicker than Minji could spoil the entire plot.

“Is it because of Regina George?” Bora joked, reading the cast in the description as Minji pressed play.

“Her, too,” Minji laughed at the reference, “but you’ll see.”

Minji returned to the loveseat, slipping into the small blanket they shared and scooting as close as she could to the woman next to her. There was plenty of space on the other side of the sofa – even with Rilakkuma’s “willing” participation occupying its own spot – but not like Bora actually minded the proximity and warmth. She should be used to it by now.

Well, she _should_ be.

“Is it too hot?” Minji asked when she felt Bora’s aggressive tugging at her shirt to fan herself.

Must be the clothes, yes that must be it. As silly as it might have sounded in her head, Bora was particularly not used to being this close to Minji when they were clothed.

“A little,” Bora replied, still not convinced that it was actually the warmth in the air. The weather was damn cold, actually.

Minji then moved away, and Bora instinctively wrapped an arm around the woman’s waist to pull her even closer than where originally was.

“No.”

“Now _that’s_ kinda hot,” Minji said, playfully hitting Bora’s chest.

“Shush, movie’s starting.”

The movie was in all English, and Bora found it gradually difficult to focus. Not that she couldn’t follow along with the subtitles. She was simply distracted by the way Minji’s eyes would light up at her favorite scenes, or the way she would mouth the lines reciting them in perfect memory, or the way she would sniffle and try to quickly wipe away her tears, or how–

Ah, this feeling. 

It was like that time they had shared a meal in this apartment, sitting on the floor with the small coffee table and the mood lamp. Except this time, she acted it upon her thoughts, leaning in to kiss Minji on the cheek softly.

Surprised, Minji turned to her. “What was that?”

Bora shrugged. “Wanted to see if all tears tasted the same?”

In disbelief, Minji let out a soft laugh.

“Can’t you just admit you wanted to kiss me?”

“If you already know that, why do I have to?”

Minji opened her mouth to say something, but decided to sink back into the sofa and drew her eyes back to the movie.

A few drawn out seconds later, Bora could barely hear the muttering whisper suppressed through pouty lips, “Because I wanted to hear it...”

And it made Bora want to kiss Minji again and again and again–

But she kept that to herself.

They were halfway through the movie now, and the main protagonist had finally gotten the girl, proposing to her on one knee as she woke up from her sleep in the comfort of their bed on an ordinary, mundane night. When their first encounter became undone due to unfortunate, overlapping events, he had traveled back to meet her as a stranger three times over, in different places, at different times, in different situations, as the same persons as they were before. He was convinced, after the first, then the second, and the third – even when they had already slept together – that she was the one, and she would still be the only one.

It was a rather interesting movie, Bora thought, although she had never doubted Minji’s tastes.

“So what do you like about it? The romance?”

“The connection, actually,” Minji replied. “Isn’t it fascinating? Because they’re still the same people, it doesn’t matter at what point in time when he meets her, the connection will happen just like the first time…” 

Minji went on, passionately, as if this was the kind of thing she would stay awake thinking about until she fell asleep dreaming about it.

“Do you believe in fate?”

“Yes,” Minji said, turning to meet Bora’s eyes. “The kind of fate when luck meets hard work? Especially yes.”

The subtle smile on Minji’s lips and the way she returned her gaze made Bora think for a moment about the implication of her words. It didn’t take long to click in her mind.

“Was it you?” Bora started. The nonchalant, waiting silence on the receiving end told her Minji already knew she caught on and was just waiting for her to conclude, so she continued, “Did you have something to do with me being casted?”

“Maybe a nudge?” Minji said, although not saying much at all.

“Why me?”

Thinking, Minji began tapping a finger on the left side of Bora’s chest, matching rhythms to the beating of her own heart that synchronized with Bora’s own.

“I like your works, Bora,” Minji started, “You’re good. Like, really good. Of course, you were considered to begin with, the director was just being indecisive. I can’t imagine anyone fitting that role better than you. But you also work so hard, and you know how to play when the time calls for it. You know how to enjoy it, how to take it wholeheartedly. It’s genuine, the love you have for what you do, and it shows.”

It’s not like she never heard it before, Bora was more than confident in her skills and value as an actress. Even the most simple compliments, however, sounded different from coming from Minji, and Bora reasoned that it must be because it’s _the_ Kim Minji. Only half-expecting the latter to joke around and say something cheesy, Bora wasn’t prepared for such a response and found herself pulling the blanket up to cover the flushed pink coloring her face.

“Besides, don’t you think we have the perfect on-screen chemistry?”

Bora playfully pushed against Minji’s shoulder at the ending note.

“You missed me that much?”

“Yeah. I did, actually.”

The blush on her cheeks grew to a deeper red and she could feel her face warming up from Minji’s straightforwardness that had her head empty of any witty comebacks.

“For me, it had to be you.”

She then heard Minji say, in her softest voice, as if she had let a running thought be spoken aloud in an intentional accident. As if she had allowed Bora to hear it if she so pleased, and ignored it if she wished.

Bora chose the latter, and they fell back in silence as the voices from the TV screen became more prominent again.

And unlike Minji, Bora had bitten her tongue. It was honest, yet she couldn’t say it, but the thought remained and had taken residence in her mind for the rest of the night.

_For me, too, it had to be you._

–

_“I was thinking, maybe we can catch dinner? Just me and you. I would like to get to know you, Miss Minji.”_

Minji let out a sigh when her call ended with the young lead actor from their drama. Loosening her grip on the steering wheel, Minji tapped her finger lightly against the leather, a tad anxious about the situation.

“It’s a date,” Bora said nonchalantly from the passenger’s seat. There was no point pretending she didn’t hear the entire conversation on such loud speakers.

“It’s a date,” Minji repeated.

“He is nice. Too young, but not bad.” 

Bora sat up from her seat as she reached for the lipstick in her bag. Pulling the sun visor down to look at herself in the mirror, she applied the red on her lips then patted the color evenly with the tip of her finger. She then turned to the driver’s seat, catching Minji’s eyes that instantly shifted away at the contact.

“Yeah,” Minji agreed, curtly.

“Free food.” 

There was a jolt in the car, a sharp press on the accelerator, and the lipstick in Bora’s hand slipped off to the side. She bent down to reach for the item wedged somewhere in between the seat and the car door that even her small hands could not reach. 

“I don’t see why not,” Bora added, deciding to dismiss the lipstick completely; it could always be retrieved later.

As Bora returned to the comfort of her seat, a ringing sound blared from the speaker phone of the bluetooth.

“Are you free tomorrow night at 7pm? Yeah, I’ll meet you by the JW.”

And within a few minutes and short exchanges, the date was set.

It was her suggestion, but Bora was in sudden disbelief as much as the young man on the other line. She tugged at the seat belt latching over her body, almost feeling herself sinking into the seat as she tried to process what had just happened. She turned to look at Minji, who stared at her then with a smile on her face.

It wasn’t much of a Minji smile.

“You’re right,” Minji shrugged, “Why not.”

The road home felt awfully longer, despite Minji’s speeding above twenty kilometers more than usual, zooming past yellow lights as if everything suddenly ran on a time crunch. Minji’s eyes were trained on the road for the rest of the ride, and the obnoxiously loud music could only do so much to mute the seeping silence.

Thoughts busied her mind, and Bora forgot about the lipstick altogether.

–

It was Friday night.

An empty bowl lay unwashed in the sink, ricocheting droplets from the faucet. There was a pair of heels in the middle of the hallway, one toppling on top of the other. The comforter spread in a bundled, wrinkled mess on one side of the bed; the other half, smooth without any sign of company.

Sprawled on the two-seater sofa, Bora shifted uneasily every other minute. The extra space felt like a void, the blanket felt much bigger than usual, and even with Rilakkuma’s usual company, it was so...missing. 

It was never a commitment, nor was it ever agreed upon. They rolled with it because it just happened to...happen, every week, same time. Nonetheless, Bora was disappointed, now rewatching Minji’s favorite movie by herself while the other woman was probably busy on her free dinner date. It only had made her realize she remembered less about the scenes in the movie and more about Minji’s reactions when they happened.

Minji. Minji. Minji.

Even when she was not here, that was all Bora’s mind could reel back to, and she was afraid of the implications that came along with the thoughts.

And when the clock hit 3am, the clicking sounds of unhinged locks shook her awake. She didn’t realize she had fallen asleep past the rolling credits and missed when the rain had started.

Bora jumped off the sofa and headed for the front door, watching as Minji tumbled in, hair amess and clothes drenched from the rain, but still managed to look perfectly attractive in her all-black attire and wavy dark hair.

“Why are you here–”

“Is this yours?” 

Minji held up an item in her hand. It was the lipstick Bora had dropped in Minji’s car.

“Yes–”

Before Bora could reach for it, Minji had uncapped the lipstick and applied its color onto her own lips. Bewildered and confused, suddenly having so many questions yet none sounded remotely coherent, Bora watched in silence – almost too attentively – as Minji pressed her lips, licking at the brim to rid of the imperfection as she capped the lipstick back into its shell. The red spread thin, messy, and Bora never realized how the color could look so different on someone else, so pretty on Minji. 

And before Bora could raise any of those curiosities swarming in her head, Minji’s lips were on hers, crashing into open-mouth kisses that tasted like expensive Merlot. Minji’s body smelled like fresh hotel soap, one Bora had become too familiar with in the first few weeks of their rendezvous, and it incited her to unbutton Minji’s top with just as much care as Minji was tearing and tossing hers across the room.

The red from her lipstick was now marked on her skin in deep bruises and bites, and Bora couldn’t understand why she could be so aggravated with the smell of wine and hotel soap as the night went on.

And Bora couldn’t ignore the guise of possessiveness – the way Minji was holding so tightly onto her like she was afraid of falling, and how her kisses felt like delicate, desperate cries chanting, _“I’m yours.”_

–

“Shit.”

It was her first coherent thought that morning as Minji stared blankly at the two perfectly cooked sunny-side ups on the frying pan. She glanced at the trash by the corner, at specifically the cracked shells with the spewed yolk dripping messily on the edges that she had decisively dumped away from the first try. Maybe perfectionism had its part, but she knew better than to feed herself lies. 

She then looked toward the bed, toward the other woman still sound asleep under the sheets they had wrinkled in between their plays and attempts to keep warm in bare nakedness during the coldest hours of a nearing winter morning. She was careful not to make a mess of the kitchen, and even more so on Bora’s oversized T-shirt that somehow became theirs. Then she glanced back at the eggs, still so perfect, and perfectly still.

Minji was invested. In this damn breakfast they were about to have at 1pm in this secret apartment Bora had rented it out first and foremost for – Minji suddenly reminded herself – their “benefits”. And secondly…– right, there was no _secondly_.

She laughed, quietly, and it tasted just as bitter as the first breakfast she made for the both of them on their first brunch together. Shaking away the only coherent thought that kept her hesitating, Minji set up the table, plated their meals, and then woke Bora with a kiss.

That morning, there was an unexplainable relief when Bora _reacted_ – a subtle smile she hid between bites – when Minji said nothing had happened between her and their fellow co-star. That it was all just a receiving of a good free meal and an offer of a polite rejection. 

Minji realized a chance to say more had slipped away when they changed the topics, and she left it at that.

–

Bora wanted to turn around the moment she stepped onto that street. Her rolling luggage had stopped short at her heels, the sky was sprinkling hints of rain, and the arrowheads on the streetlights pointing back to the apartment felt taunting with every block she passed. She should run, the thought screamed in her head, run until she was sure she would not change her mind. She should leave before she’d get left, was the thought she held onto as she had been walking aimlessly for the past half hour while the sun slowly bid goodnight. Yet every step came a subconscious wish that a hand would hold her back and lead her back home. 

_Home._

That was exactly what it started to feel like. 

She left her red toothbrush leaning against Minji’s white one, she left her shirts that now just feel like Minji’s warmth, she left the little small coffee table where they had their first meal together, she left a small note on the bed, and she left.

She missed, almost instantly, the night view from the wide-opened window that came with Minji’s jacket around her shoulders and arms around her waist, the creaks on the floor that sang every time they danced to the shuffled songs on Minji’s most sentimental playlist, the kitchen tiles feeling so cold against their bare feet despite the warmth from the burner where Minji cooked their meals past midnight, the stubborn dripping from the ceiling that would sometimes harmonize with Minji’s cute snoring on the nights Bora would stay awake to watch the latter fall asleep.

Then the tears came without restraint, harder than the splattering of rain against the cement. Like the pattering ripples at her feet, everything she had held together came apart at once, ringing loudly at the forefront of her mind enough for her to feel the violent tugging at her chest.

It’s the chaste kisses that were beginning to mean more, Bora realized.

More than the drunken, messy kisses that served as instant gratification from all those prolonging stares when they first looked at each other across the room. More than the hungry, reckless kisses in the back of the van behind tinted windows in an empty parking lot. More than the desperate, impatient kisses with backs pressed against the door of a hotel room.

It’s the morning kisses under a small breath of _“five more minutes”_ when the sun barely waved through the curtains. It’s the spontaneous kisses that tasted like milk foam and laughter between breakfast at noon. It’s the gentle kiss of good nights and sweet dreams right before sleep that missed the lips in the dark but was still surely felt.

It’s the chaste kisses that meant more. It’s the chaste kisses with Minji that whispered to Bora of a soft,

“ _Oh._ ”

They had already filmed their last scene a few days back, and an epiphany came knocking that there was no other purpose for them to continue meeting this way. She was afraid of the moments that passed like a fleeting dream, the random hand holding without purpose, the blatant, sweet nothings that were uncalled for, the long kisses of lips on lips while they remained fully clothed and wrapped in a warm embrace. 

A part of her that screamed logic couldn’t afford the truth.

A part of her that feared the worst couldn’t afford the truth.

A part of her that longed for Minji couldn’t afford the truth.

And Bora missed, instantly, everything about Minji.

Then she could hear the voices around her, hushing whispers of some sorts, as if she was now the center of attention. Reality bounced back when she heard her name – _“Is that Kim Bora?”_ – and that, right, she’s _the_ Kim Bora. 

_Oh for God’s sake, let me be dramatic for once._

And really, she should have dressed better for the occasion if she decided to publicly have a breakdown in the middle of nowhere, but even at times like this, Bora couldn’t afford to sacrifice fashion with a giant hoodie that would cover her beautiful face.

Bora huffed, almost feeling the tears rolling back up for having her internal monologue and emotional moment ruined.

Then she felt it, the familiar feeling wrapped around her shoulders just like it had every other night before, the leather jacket that felt like an embrace. Minji’s leather jacket.

Bora looked up, teary-eyed, at the woman towering over her. And when she saw Minji’s face, it was as if someone had just put a pause to a stubborn pendulum of mood swings. 

“Let’s go.”

The latter swiftly dragged Bora’s luggage with one hand and pulled Bora closely with the other, as if the shorter woman could fly away with the harsh wind that suddenly swept by. Like a magnet, Bora nudged closer to the warmth.

All other noise quieted, and all Bora could hear was the nervous, panicked thumping of Minji’s heartbeat against her ears.

–

The sun had set and the rain had subsided when they arrived at the complex. Minji led them to the rooftop, a quaint spot with a small seating and a nice view of the city lights. It was as if she could sense Bora wasn’t quite ready to go back to the apartment just yet. The cityscape looked different here than the view from their window just a story below, a slightly different angle in a slightly different perspective. 

Minji’s jacket was still around Bora’s shoulders, and Bora’s hand was holding onto a mug of hot tea the latter had fetched for her from the kitchen. The silence dragged on as Minji became fascinated over her breath forming visible clouds in the air while Bora was intrigued at the persistent steam in her drink despite the cold. It should be unsettling, how long they seemed to just stay this way, but it wasn’t. 

It was just as it had always been: comfortable.

But when the cup in Bora’s hands cooled, Minji spoke.

“Do you want to stop here?” 

Bora sipped on the tea, it was lukewarm now. She was still trying to find the words, so Minji continued instead.

“I don’t want to lose you.”

A hint of shakiness in Minji’s voice had Bora turned to look at the woman next to her. There was genuine fear in Minji’s eyes, a glimpse she had caught earlier when Minji pulled her away from the rain. It was another side of Minji she hadn’t seen, so raw and vulnerable.

“I was driving to the apartment when I saw you walk out with your luggage. I knew I couldn’t – _shouldn’t_ – pull you back if you wanted to go. But when you suddenly stood there and started crying, I–...”

Minji paused, her voice breaking as she swallowed the lump in her throat, and it hammered a pang against Bora’s chest. 

“...I don’t want to lose you, either,” Bora said, “but this is not just ‘for fun’ anymore, right?”

Minji shook her head. “Do you remember what was the last thing I said to you a year ago?” 

“That I was the hottest woman you’ve ever been with?” Bora replied, smiling when she earned a look of disbelief from the latter

“I–... after that. And that was _not_ how I worded it.”

“You said, ‘maybe I’d even fall for you if we meet again,’” Bora recited; it had always been something ghosting in the edge of her mind.

Pressing her lips and kicking at the pebbles on the ground, Minji took a deep breath, exhaled, then turned to Bora. 

“I didn’t mean to jinx it, but it happened.”

Minji had such a serious look in her eyes that, for a moment, Bora thought it was to be endearing. But for once, Minji was an open book that Bora was beginning to understand.

Placing the mug aside, Bora freed her grip to hold Minji’s cold hands, blowing warm air onto the pair that had been pinching each other to keep warm in the midst of all this unusual display of nervousness. 

“What if I tell you,” Bora pressed a gentle kiss to Minji’s fingers, “it happened for me, too?”

“You falling for yourself is not new,” Minji joked, despite the blush obviously reddening on her cheeks at the other woman’s sudden forwardness.

Bora aggressively tossed Minji’s hands back at her at the response, almost making the latter topple off balance. When they settled down from sudden fits of tickle attacks, the two bridged the distance and snuggled close to each other, Bora resting her head on Minji’s shoulder as Minji wrapped an arm around Bora’s waist, their hands locked, interlaced.

“I was ready to let this go… ready to let you go,” Bora started again, “I mean the sex is great–”

“The best,” Minji corrected with a whisper, yelping when she earned a merciless pinch from Bora for interrupting. “Sorry, continue.”

“As I was saying, the sex was _the best_ … but we both know this went on for more than that. I thought maybe it’s because you became a habit, and that what we do is just a routine that I got used to. But the more time I spent with you, and especially the times we spent apart, it makes me… think. I was really looking forward to every day, here, coming to see you… waking up to you... going to sleep next to you. And then there was the brunch. You manage to burn something every time, but it still tasted so good. And the midnight snacks… and the movies on Fridays. And… just us being us.”

Bora sat up, her hands still holding Minji’s, facing the latter. Looking at her now, Bora realized she never wished to run away to begin with.

“I don’t want to stop, but I don’t want to continue where we left off.”

Minji smiled first, and Bora followed. She placed a hand on Bora’s tear-stained cheek, and felt the warmth when the other woman pressed against her palm. 

“We don’t have to.”

“How do you feel about this?” Bora asked, seeking comfort to her doubts.

“I want you,” Minji said, “I want to go to sleep next to you, and I want to wake up to your beautiful face. I want more brunches together, more burnt eggs and toasts and 3am instant noodles. I want more spontaneous trips to the ferris wheel, and this time I’ll kiss you when we reach the top, just like how I wish I did the first time we were there. More Friday night movies, or whenever we’d like. I want more time with you. I want more for us.”

Bora cried again, and maybe Minji did, too. They didn’t bother with the tears. It felt warmth against their skin, but it was a soothing kind of warmth.

“Good. Me, too.”

Though they had both silently acknowledged that they had been acting out a screenplay of dumb and dumber with themselves and each other, Minji and Bora also understood they had been running away from words that counted. Besides, an ending script with proper confessions would make this better.

And when they kissed, it was the best.

Except for when Bora suddenly sneezed when a strong gust of wind shooed them away.

“Let’s go back inside, and I’ll warm you up,” Minji said, laughing as she pecked Bora on her nose and hugging her tight.

“Kinky, I like,” Bora winked, and let Minji hold her hand and lead them home.

They didn’t care to know who had said _“I love you”_ first between kisses later because they would say it again and again to each other, the next morning, during brunch, past 3am, during Friday movies, and every day so on.

—

The night was ordinary, and so mundane, like every other night. 

Situated in the comfort of their bed, Bora pulled up the sheets to cover their bodies, her head resting on Minji’s shoulder as the latter browsed through her phone.

The dripping from the ceiling continued again, and the cold autumn air was starting to feel like winter.

Then Minji suggested, “How about I buy a place for us?”

“Where?”

“Here?”

Minji shared the screen with Bora to show her the listing of a nice, fancy home close by.

“Yours and mine?”

“Who else?”

“You tell me.”

They laughed at the way they had recited the lines like a perfectly memorized script of how it all started. Minji placed a chaste kiss on Bora’s lips, grinning blissfully as she spoke.

“Just ours.”

Softly, Bora returned the kiss.

“I’d love that.”

Bora could feel it, the way Minji’s lips would curve up in a smile so full of curiosities and open doors.


End file.
